


Fallen Snow

by jjomiomi



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Angst, Angst with a happy ending(?), Fluff, M/M, Sad Kyan Reki, and reki plays guitar, langa is a singer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjomiomi/pseuds/jjomiomi
Summary: Partners.Langa missed that word.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Fallen Snow

Langa hadn’t been here in years.

To be seen at a dive bar, simply listening to the open mic and knocking back a few drinks, was taboo these days. Someone like him, someone special, was too good for places like this one—that’s what Adam said. And Langa was used to doing what Adam told him.

Langa stood on the street, staring at the familiar neon sign and wondering if he should even bother. It had been years, after all. He and Reki were different people. 

But. 

There was something pulling him in. Because through the door he thought he could almost hear it already; The sound of Reki’s guitar, his voice, a siren’s song. Langa couldn’t resist. 

He stepped in the door.

—

His first time coming to the bar was three years earlier. He was freshly 21 back then, finally allowed in and rearing to go to bars like this. Not for the drinking—Langa had already had an encounter with alcohol that didn’t leave him wanting more. No-

He was there for the music.

Restaurants always had boring open mic nights, a bunch of kids and old men and failed bands. It was bars like this one where things really picked up—where legends began, he was told. And Langa was longing to hear a new sound, something special. Almost as much as he was longing to create it.

So he rushed in, heading straight for the open mic signup sheet, and found himself a table.

The first few acts were nothing special, but something about the live music made Langa’s heart pick up a beat, especially when he thought about how he would be on soon. He wasn’t scared, didn’t get anxious anymore—he was only excited, itching to go.

Langa was the fourth act. He didn’t have a guitar, had to sing along to canned music from the karaoke machine. He didn’t mind. As long as he was singing, things were okay. 

It was a good set, he thought. Not his best, maybe, but good. He was grinning as he left the stage.

Then he was forced to stop in his tracks, as a red-headed kid stood in his path, pointing at him dramatically. 

“You.”

Langa went rigid. “Me?” he said, voice almost breaking.

The redhead nodded. “You. I want to make music with you.”

Langa blinked at him.

He shot Langa a sunshine bright grin, almost blinding. “Your voice is amazing! You’re amazing!” He stared up at him, eyes wide. “And if you let me play guitar with you, you’ll be even better!”

“I don’t-“

A man at the microphone cleared his throat. “Next up, Reki Kyan,” he said, and the redhead jumped and started to race onto the stage.

“Think about it,” he said over his shoulder, giving Langa a wink before he turned back to the stage and pulled his guitar bag off his shoulder.

Langa stood in place, a little dumbfounded. The guy seemed crazy, he thought, and his first instinct was to get out of there before he had to see him again. He was already turning toward the door, putting his hand in the knob.

And then he heard it.

It started with just a note, like any song. But something about it caught Langa’s ear, and he turned back to the stage as the second measure started, blinked and stared as the redhead played, eyes closed, not even thinking as his fingers moved across the fretboard.

The sound made Langa’s heart ache. This was different than the other acts; This was something new, something raw. He knew that the kid playing knew it too, from the smile tugging on his lips as he swung into the bridge, then back to the melody.

It was exactly what Langa was looking for. Something special.

He clutched at his heart and stood like that for the whole set, listening carefully and feeling that raw emotion course through him. He was frozen, transfixed.

But the set ended, and Langa took in a deep breath as the kid walked off the stage, a bright smile on his face at the scattered applause. Langa ran over to him, grabbed him by the wrist.

“I want to make music with you, too,” he said.

The redhead’s eyes went wide before his grin returned, and he pulled his arm away to take Langa’s hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s a deal, then. From now on, we’re partners.”

Partners. 

Langa missed that word.


End file.
